It was Bell. Stumbling homewards from the Golden Shaft. A very early hour indeed, considering the state he was in, for him to quit the seductions of that hostelry. He had been unwise enough to go back to it after his dinner, and there he had sat until now. Had he chosen to keep sober, the matter whispered by Blase Pellet would not have returned to rankle in his mind: as he did not, it had soon begun to do so ominously. With every cup he took, the matter grew in his imagination, until it assumed an ugly look, and became a very black picture. And he had now come blundering forth with the intention of "looking out for himself," as ingeniously suggested by Blase Pellet that day when they were parting. In short, to track the steps and movements of the two suspected people; to watch whether they met, and all about it. "Perhaps other folks will have as much as they can carry soon," was his insolent retort to Frank, lifting the heavy stick in his hand menacingly. At which Frank only laughed, and sped onwards. A terribly savage mood rushed over Josiah Bell. Seeing Frank strike off towards Bleak Row, he concluded that it was to his dwelling-house he was bent, and to see Rosaline. And he gnashed his teeth in fury, and gave vent to a fierce oath because he could not overtake the steps of the younger man. Bursting in at his own door when he at length reached it, he sent his eyes round the room in search of the offenders. But all the living inmates that met his view consisted of his wife in her mob-cap and white apron, knitting, as usual, in her own chair, and the cat sleeping upon the hearth. "Where's Rosaline?" Mrs. Bell put down her knitting--a grey worsted stocking for Bell himself--and sighed deeply as she gazed at him. He had not been very sober at dinnertime: he was worse now. Nevertheless she felt thankful that he had come home so soon. "She's gone out!" he continued, before Mrs. Bell had spoken: and it was evident that the fact of Rosaline's being out was putting him into a furious passion. "Who is she with?" "Rose went over after tea to sit a bit with Granny Sandon. Granny's worse to-day, poor thing. I'm expecting her back every minute." Bell staggered to the fireplace and stood there grasping his stick. His wife went on with her knitting in silence. To reproach him now would do harm instead of good. It must be owned that his exceeding to this extent was quite an exceptional case: not many times had his wife known him do it. "Where's Raynor?" he broke out. "Raynor!" she echoed, in surprise. "Do you mean Mr. Frank Raynor? I don't know where he is." "He came in here a few minutes ago." "Bless you, no, not he," returned the wife, in an easy tone, thinking it the best tone to assume just then. "I tell ye I saw him come here." "The moonlight must have misled you, Josiah. Mr. Raynor has not been here to-day. Put down your stick and take off your hat: and sit down and be comfortable."